


Old Love Dies Hard

by Norsenightingale



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-21 03:47:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17635436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Norsenightingale/pseuds/Norsenightingale
Summary: The death of her husband leaves Hvitserk’s true love alone. He can’t have that.





	Old Love Dies Hard

“(Y/n)!” A voice called out to her from a few feet back, nearly drowned in the hustle and bustle of Kattegat streets. She recognizes it as a son of Ragnar immediately but doesn’t realize it is Hvitserk until he is pulling her into his arms. He holds her close, a large palm resting on the back of her head so he can whisper in her ear. “I heard about Asleifr. I just wanted to let you know I’m sorry.”

(Y/n) laughs, dry and cold, nothing like her usual self at all. He steps back when her palms push on his chest but keeps one hand firmly grasped on her wrist. His eyebrows furrow in that adorable puppy dog way she usually adores but her heart is far too broken to be enchanted right now.

“Don’t be sorry,” (y/n) shakes her head, “It was just the ending of a sentence that was already written.” She feels herself being pulled away from the market, closer to the edge of the forest where they played as children.

“I never really wanted to marry Asleifr. I didn’t love him.”

He isn’t sure if she is talking for her own benefit or for his but he hums as a response anyway and leads her further into the woods. When they reach the destination, a calm little meadow known only to them, she allows her body to fall upon him in the way he already knew she needed.

Hvitserk’s back rests against a large tree trunk and he intertwines their legs, only the sound of the rushing spring in the background. He cradles her softly in his strong arms, his war-torn hands massaging her back. He expects her to cry, wants her to even, so that she can begin to deal with her grief, but she doesn’t.

“Do you remember when we first found this place?”

He immediately flashes back to when they were young teens, lost in the woods and in each other. He remembers his gangly limbs and her small girlish figure, nothing like the gorgeous and shapely woman she was now. His hand brushes lightly against the curve of her hip in question.

“Yes, I believe it was that same summer that I made you a woman.” She smiles as she recalls that warm night he had taken her for the first time, right in the very meadow they were sitting in. They were young and awkward, hands everywhere and nowhere they were supposed to be, but it was perfect.

“I made you a man far more than you made me a woman,” she teases. 

“And I would have to agree,” Hvitserk chuckles but it doesn’t last long. “It was that winter your father sent you away to your aunt.”

She remembers that, too. It was three long years before her father came back to get her and when she returned, Ragnar and his sons were already far gone on an expedition to England.

“Father was always so determined to keep me away from the arms of a Ragnarsson…” she doesn’t finish her sentence, just leaves it hanging because she knows the irony of it. “It seems like so long ago now.”

They settle in the silence, both of them knowing there was so much to say but not knowing how.

“Before, when you said you didn’t want to marry Asleifr?” It’s a fresh wound and he knows he shouldn’t be poking at it, but he can’t help himself. “Why did you?” (y/n) stiffens in his arms.

“I could tell you the truth but do you really want it?”

It’s a sincere question, and Hvitserk isn’t sure how to answer it so he just nods.

“I married him because I couldn’t marry you.”

There it was. Everything he had always wondered and hoped for laying right in front of him. He wants to laugh and cry at the same time. He feels a tremendous weight lifted from his shoulders but a new one settles right in his chest.

“Father liked Asleifr,” she continues, “He was a farmer, from a stable and honest family. When I came back to Kattegat he was here and you were gone.” She says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world and it almost angers him.

“So you married him because it was easy?”

She pulls away from him now but doesn’t go far, kneeling between his legs so she can look him in the eyes.

“Nothing about my life has been easy, Hvitserk.” He knows the heavy truth in that statement. “My mother died years ago and when father died last winter I thought I would at least have Asleifr.” She pauses. “He wasn’t the best husband but at least I wasn’t alone.”

Hvitserk doesn’t think, just pulls her to him and presses his lips heavily against hers. His thumbs caress her cheekbones. brushing away tears that are now falling freely from her eyes. The salty taste mixes against their lips but they don’t care, too lost in years of wishing to be in each other’s embrace again. Her hands come to rest on his wrists and she holds on tightly, afraid that if she lets go of him she would wake up and he would be gone.

She breaks the kiss to breathe, her lungs burning from the current mix of emotions. He continues, peppering kisses along her forehead, cheeks, nose and neck.

“You are not alone,” he hushes and kisses the shell of her ear, “As long as I am living you will never be alone.”

(y/n) kisses him again, putting everything she wants to say into it. She straddles his hips, her hands pushing underneath his tunic. He lets her explore him, her fingers playing along the well-defined divots in his abdomen that certainly weren’t there when they were teens.

“We don’t need to do this.” He wants to make that clear when she starts to untie his trousers. She ignores him, undoing the ties and tugging them down to his knees. His cock springs free and she immediately moves back to her previous position. Hvistserk has no more interruptions and helps her gather her skirts as she lowers herself onto him.

“Oh fuck,” he curses as she sinks down in one sweep. She stays still for a moment, both of them lost in the feeling of being whole again. She whimpers from the stretch she hasn’t felt in years and he slots their lips together once again. "I love you,“ he breathes out, almost a whisper. "I have always loved you.” 

It feels like the first all over again but this time isn’t rushed or filled with fumbling fingers. This time it is two soul-bound lovers finally discovering each other again. She rocks softly against him, neither one having the stamina or need to rush. When he meets his end so does she, milking him deeply into her.

She lies on his chest while they steady their breathing, his heart beating strong under her palm.

“I’ve missed you.“


End file.
